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“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I sent Bobby for wood. He hates listening to those narrow-minded men, but it’s better than freezing.”
* * *
I satat the kitchen table, a bowl of beans and rice in front of me. The rest of the house was quiet as I waited for Wayne to come home. When he did show up, he leaned against the door frame and scowled at me.
“We saved you your equal share,” I said, sliding the bowl toward him. “We also voted that Greyly should get a lunch. Just her. Just her normal small portion.”
“Doesn’t count. We weren’t all present.”
“Whose fault is that? You’re the one that stormed off in a fit.”
“A fit? You left with another man. What was I supposed to think?”
I shook my head at him.
“Since you’re the one who suggested I try to trade what’s in the basement for food, you were supposed to have faith in me. I did exactly what you wanted. Unlike you.”
He threw his hands up in the air again. “Here we go. Are you going to hate me forever because I was man enough to stand up for what I wanted? A life without being chained down.”
“If you didn’t want to be chained down, then why did you want to marry me?”
“Back then, you were good at giving head.”
“Back then, I liked you more.”
He snorted.
“Don’t worry. I won’t be touching you again until I know for sure you’re not carrying some grey abomination in your baby-hungry uterus.”
I busted out laughing. “Baby-hungry uterus?”
“I see the way you look at that kid. Being around her isn’t helping you. We’ll talk to Matt and transfer to another house. One without kids.”
I stood and shook my head. “Being around her isn’t helping you. Sleep on the couch tonight. It’ll be more comfortable for you.”
“Already planned on it,” he said as I walked away.
I slept fitfully despite having the bed to myself. Even in my sleep, I was angry at Wayne. I couldn’t believe he had actually accused me of cheating on him. I’d forgiven his initial reaction, figuring he’d said what he had out of fear for my safety after hearing I’d left. But I was struggling to forgive everything he’d said when he’d come home.
He could be such a stubborn ass at times.
Telling myself that didn’t ease the sting of his accusation, though. Baby-hungry uterus? Who said that? A man afraid of kids, that’s who. The anger and bitterness continued to climb until I gave up sleeping at dawn and got out of bed to use the bathroom.
Wayne didn’t move on the couch as I let myself downstairs. He snored with the ease of an untroubled soul, which only annoyed me more.
In the basement, I started the process of sorting through clothes. Some of it was too cute to giveaway yet. I removed a few items too impractical to keep, like a tiny dress with more frills and ruffles than a quinceanera gown. The fey probably wouldn’t trade for it, but there was no harm in trying.
With six items neatly packed away in a plastic bag, I went upstairs to start breakfast. At the first clang of the pot, Wayne roused and joined me in the kitchen. He didn’t apologize for being a dumbass, though, so I remained quiet.
Breakfast proceeded like the day before, and as soon as the dishes were in the sink, I grabbed the bag of clothes.
“You’re not going back there,” Wayne said, noticing.
“You’re telling me you don’t want me to do my part?”
“No, do your part. Here. With your own kind.”
